


Catbread Betrayed

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [29]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Murray is away at a conference Quinlan gets in over his head with a handsome younger man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread Betrayed

**Author's Note:**

> This story precedes the Catbread novella Year of the Crab, and describes events referenced in Chapter 6: Aftercare.

Ted Quinlan was in the stockroom selecting items from the shelves and stacking them on a wheeled cart. He had a clipboard propped up at eye level, a sheet filled with Murray’s tiny handwriting listing all the things needed out front. He knew he was supposed to be checking it off line by line, but it was quicker to just glance up and move on. Murray didn’t like it when the papers weren’t marked—it had something to do with his inventory method, maybe—but if he got mad Quinlan could handle it. Handling Murray was one of his greatest skills.

Then the door swung open and Deke came in, tall and blond, eighteen years old, approaching the height of his physical perfection, working for pocket money before going to Texas A&M on a football scholarship. Everyone liked Deke, though it was with a certain amount of guilt that Quinlan kept him on. He told himself it was just for the summer, there were only a few weeks to go, but the fact that Murray knew nothing of his doubts made him question his motives at times. Times like this, for instance.

“Morning, Ted,” Deke grinned, pushing the door closed. “You weren’t waiting in here for me, were you?”

“Nope. Just trying to make out Bozinsky’s handwriting,” he joked and felt an instant stab of guilt. Why did all of his attempts to keep things light seem to come at Murray’s expense?

“Need some help?” Deke took the clipboard off the shelf and looked it over, squinting comically at the neat printing.

“I about got it,” he said, leaning over to glance at the sheet. Suddenly Quinlan was aware of Deke’s cologne, strong and masculine, like the arm that brushed his as Deke extended it helpfully.

Despite his protests, Deke read the sheet and moved in deliberately, crowding into Quinlan, reaching across him to grab things off the shelves, his muscular arms rubbing Quinlan’s chest and shoulders lightly enough to call an accident, but that would be a lie. He didn’t like lying, especially to himself, but he did like the harmless attention of this gorgeous barely-grown man. Deke flirted with everyone, even Murray, and if there seemed to be a slightly different tone to his behavior here, behind closed doors, Quinlan kept that to himself.

“You should take it easy, boss,” Deke laughed. “Isn’t this what you hired me for?”

“Didn’t hire you so I could sit around and get soft,” he said and flushed guiltily when Deke smirked.

“ _You_? Soft? No way.”

He cleared his throat and said, gruffly, “Better get this stuff out there. Murray says it’s going to be a busy day.”

Deke smirked again, clapped him on the shoulder in a way that started out hearty and turned into a caress, called him _boss_ with a silky tongue. Quinlan was in way over his head and he knew it. But Deke was so good with the heavy boxes, and it was just a few more weeks.

***

“Can’t wait until you see him?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light. Murray was leaving soon for a conference where he would meet for the first time this friend with whom he had been corresponding for nearly a year. Quinlan always hated it when Murray went away, but this time was especially awful. Murray was already excited about Henry, and Quinlan worried, knowing how careless he could be at these events. He always drank too much, for one thing. And sometimes there was dancing.

“We’re helping each other with our speeches. He’s giving two, and I’m delivering the keynote address. We’re also both participating in a panel discussion on the possibilities of an expanded internet. I’ve been going over his drafts while he looks at mine, and he just sent back his latest revision.”

“Sounds like they might as well make you co-speakers,” Quinlan said, laughing with a catch in his throat. He was reading a few sentences here and there, and seeing a lot of highly technical, highly effusive praise for Murray’s words inserted in blue type. None of it made sense to Quinlan, but apparently Murray had phrased it very well. Murray blushed and Quinlan didn’t know if it was because of his teasing or Henry’s praise.

“Oh, we don’t have time for that,” Murray said, offhand. “I’m going to try to catch part of his first talk, but I’m leading a workshop in another building most of that afternoon. He really wanted to sign up for it—I’m going to be teaching video game development and design—but the organizers needed him too much. It’s a shame, really,” he went on, growing more excited. “I think he could have contributed a lot, going by his published work. Gosh, Lieutenant, this is going to be so much fun. Four days in Seattle, all expenses paid, to hang out with my friends and talk about computers.” He didn’t say he wished Ted could go.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” Quinlan agreed, no longer laughing. 

“You’ll be all right, won’t you, with just Deke at work? Because you know you can always call Nick or Cody if you need more help.”

“We—I’ll be fine,” he said, straightening up swiftly, torn between feeling guilty and offended. How helpless did Murray think he was? Murray glanced up, smiled reflexively and turned back to the screen.

“I know you will. I just worry about you working too hard while I’m not here to keep an eye on you.”

“Kid, you’re the one who does that. You’re working right now.”

“I promised Henry,” he said. “I don’t want to let him down.”

***

They met Nick and Cody for a late dinner at _Straightaway’s_ that night and Murray hardly had a chance to start talking about the upcoming conference before Nick, always squinting for Quinlan’s weaknesses, hushed Murray and asked him what was wrong. Startled, Quinlan managed a passably innocent stare while trying to decide between _nothing_ , which might mean _something_ , and _why do you think anything’s wrong_ , which could be worse. He took too long and Murray was looking at him with such sweet concern in his great liquid eyes—Murray, who might go off to Seattle and not come back. Murray, who had a new friend and didn’t know he was paying a man to flirt with his husband all day.

“What do you mean?” he finally said, then decided he might as well shoot with both barrels. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“He’s just tired,” Murray said, giving Quinlan’s knee a gentle squeeze under the table. “Except for a half hour or so around noon, we were totally swamped all day.”

“Yeah?” Nick asked dryly, arching one eyebrow in the lieutenant’s direction. “I thought you had that good looking kid to do all the—uh— _grunt_ work.”

“We do,” Murray said, missing both the expression and the tone. “Ted’s running him ragged. I swear, they were both in the stock room half the day.”

Nick and Cody exchanged a glance that Quinlan saw and Murray didn’t. The eyebrow went up a little higher and Quinlan flushed. That prompted another shared glance and suddenly he was fighting an almost overwhelming urge to make a fist and knock that look off both their faces. But wasn’t that what they wanted? To make him prove them right?

 _Christ, I’m getting paranoid_ , he thought and forced himself to smile.

“Yeah, we were busy as hell,” Quinlan agreed. “It was one of those days it seemed like we ought to just stack the boxes by the counter and save the trouble of putting shit on the shelves.”

Murray laughed and started joking about how much trouble that would save, if the customers just unpacked the shipping crates and picked out their merchandise right by the register. Quinlan laughed with him, laid his hand on Murray’s beneath the table, and squeezed firmly. This was what mattered. Deke could think and do whatever he wanted—it was nothing to do with them. And neither was Henry. Murray was twice the man Quinlan knew himself to be—he would never let a handsome young man turn his head. And what were the odds of one of those super-geeks actually _being_ temptingly handsome? Well, another one, he silently amended, with a fond glance at Murray’s lithe fingers and shining eyes. Surely there wasn’t another geek-boy as pretty as his.

***

Later, in bed, none of those doubts or worries troubled Quinlan. He made love to Murray with all the passion and intensity of a man half his age, drowning himself in the sweetness of Murray’s embrace, his lush body and long, grappling arms. There was nothing Quinlan wanted that he didn’t have right here—nothing any other man could offer that would surpass Murray’s deep and abiding love. Even if Deke did want him, and why would he, Quinlan wasn’t interested. No eighteen year old jock could compare to the brilliance and experience hard at work beneath him right now.

Murray twined around him after, his head pillowed on Quinlan’s strong shoulder, still sweating and trembling, but slowly growing calmer under strong, soothing hands.

“Love you, Lieutenant,” Murray sighed, hugging his chest with one skinny arm.

“Love you, kid,” he replied and, sleeping, dreamed of Deke.

***

All the next day Murray was in the little office in back of the store, working out inventory, placing orders, and generally getting things set up to run while he was gone. Quinlan stayed up front, running the register and keeping an eye out for shoplifters, while Deke ran stock. Only once was the former Lieutenant alone in private with the handsome teenager, when Murray asked Quinlan to double-check the supply of paint-by-number kits. They were inexplicably low on Last Suppers, but the sheets Deke gave him said there were 20 in the back.

“Who’s doing all the Jesus painting around here, anyway?” Quinlan grumbled as he picked through the case marked Paint by Number, Religious, Assorted, and wrote down figures on a sheet Murray had printed up.

“Vacation Bible Schools,” Deke said off-hand. “Then the kids come in with their parents and buy pictures they _want_ to do, like kittens and horses and race cars.”

“Huh. I wondered when religion was gonna turn out to be good for something.”

Deke gave him a wink and Quinlan flushed with pleasure, last night’s good intentions forgotten with the dawn.

***

Quinlan drove Murray to the airport, walked him to his gate, hugged him goodbye and made him promise to be careful, by which he meant good. Murray promised, kissed him on the cheek, and hurried to the plane, already thinking about the conference ahead, his workshops and speeches and friends. Quinlan watched him go, his eyes fixed on Murray’s retreating figure until he was out of sight.

He’d cornered Murray in his office at home last night and pulled him away from his work with a surprise blow job, then fucked him senseless in the shower this morning, as if sending the kid off thoroughly satisfied would keep him from straying over the next few days. Or at least, Quinlan hoped, strengthen himself against Deke’s teasing. Fresh memories of Murray’s hungry mouth and sweet, slender body were the best defense against a wandering imagination. In the four years since his dreams of Murray became a reality, Quinlan hadn’t had much troubled by thoughts of anyone else.

Until now. He didn’t know why he dreamed of Deke at night, any more than he knew why the handsome young athlete seemed so interested in him, a practically married man three times his age. Quinlan had been looking at himself in the mirror with a little more attention than usual, shaving more carefully and taking time with his hair, as if trying to spot whatever it was that had caught Deke’s eye. All he saw was the same old man, his face lined and scarred, his nose apparently still growing after more than sixty years. His body was still reasonably fit—enough so, at least, that Murray enjoyed it—and few people would ever guess his true age. But Deke _knew_ , and yet the pursuit went on.

There were many things, of course, that Ted Quinlan didn’t know. Chief among them that Deke was a virgin, only out for the first time here, this summer, in a town where no one knew him. That he was practicing flirting, that Quinlan, an old man with a clumsy, geeky lover, seemed like an easy mark. Someone who would take the bait quickly and be just as quick to let him go. Someone who could teach him a few things, probably, but almost certainly couldn’t overpower him. In fact, Deke could probably do the overpowering, should he at some point decide he wanted to. And there was a small part of that rough and tumble left tackle that liked the idea of spending his last night in King Harbor brutally fucking a man with whom he’d shared weeks or even months of kind, reciprocal sex. 

Deke needed to learn the game, to start out playing gently, but he also hoped to leave on a big victory. It wouldn’t matter that he couldn’t be out in college if he could just prove his abilities first. Shattering a strong relationship would be a good start. Learning from the old man and then leaving him devastated, humiliated and alone, thinking of Deke every day and wanting him back, would be the perfect finish. 

When he first took the job, it had been with the idea of seducing Murray, who would be even less of a threat in the overpowering department. He’d changed his mind after a couple of days’ observation, realizing that if he tried to get in there, he’d have to fight the old man. But old men have their vanity, and the geek wouldn’t be such a threat, so he switched targets. Quinlan was attractive enough, had played a little college football and was still in good shape. Best of all, when it was over and all Quinlan had left were memories of the geek who used to love him and the hot teenager who ruined his life, he would know, with absolute certainty, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it had all happened _because_ he was old and vain. 

If Deke Simmons never got laid again for the entirety of his college career, he was pretty sure that thought would get him through. And if it ever crossed his mind that most of his plan was about hating his father, who left the family last year for a girl just out of high school, well, Deke wasn’t as analytical as either of the men he worked for. It probably didn’t cross his mind that there was a connection, and if it did, he almost certainly didn’t care.

***

It happened on the second day. Quinlan had lunch delivered from a nearby deli and flipped the sign in the door over to CLOSED so he could eat in peace. He’d ordered a sandwich for Deke, who pulled up a stool and joined him at the counter. They talked cars and football for a few minutes until Quinlan, aware that he was being flirted with, and worse, that he was flirting back, abruptly tossed his lunch in the trash and went into the stockroom to round up some balsa wood gliders and plywood dollhouse kits.

He was stacking the last of it on the wheeled cart when Deke came in and closed the door behind him. Quinlan put down his clipboard, surprised. There must be a customer, but Deke knew better than to leave the register unattended. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked automatically.

“Nothing. Don’t worry, the door’s still locked. I just wanted to check and see if you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Quinlan asked gruffly.

“No reason,” Deke said, back-peddling carefully. “We always take half an hour, that’s all, and you didn’t finish eating. You know,” he added, sounding just a little sly, “Murray asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“He would,” Quinlan said, confused and guilty and angry all at once. So like Murray to protect him, even as he flew off to Seattle for a tryst of his own. Suddenly, irrationally, anger came to the fore, beating back confusing and guilt and even common sense. Murray should know better. Like it wasn’t bad enough that he went off to spend the better part of week with his nerd friends, and that he probably wanted to sleep with that guy Henry, but he had to ask Deke, the golden stud whom any fool could see was hot for Quinlan, to look after him while he was gone. It was almost as if Murray wanted him to cheat, or was at least giving him permission, and that thought made him angriest of all.

Suddenly he wondered why he hadn’t just asked Nick and Cody to run the store, or even closed it, busy season or not, and gone to Seattle. Murray had invited him, as he always did, but it was a perfunctory invitation and Quinlan had turned it down without even thinking. Only now did he realize his mistake. Now that Murray was with Henry and Deke was here, crossing the storeroom in long easy strides, pinning him against the shelves with the sheer mass of his offensive lineman stature and kissing him before he could blink.

Quinlan’s hands went to Deke’s arms, thick and bulging with muscle, then to his heavy shoulders, pushing at him ineffectually without any leverage, shocked into seeing the truth now that it was too late. Of course Murray wasn’t cheating on him, with Mr. Perfect Henry or anyone else. Murray wouldn’t do that, and the idea that he might—that was just a phantasm, the creeping shadow of a fear that was real enough to be scary but not real enough to happen. 

This, however—this was real. This was Deke’s mouth on his, Deke’s hand gripping him through his jeans as his traitorous body responded, making a joke of his earlier fears, turning all his promises into lies. It was as real as the bottle that had slashed his eye, and just as deadly, but in every way so much worse because Quinlan was the one doing it, and he was doing it to Murray.

Unable to free himself by fair means, he bit Deke’s tongue and leapt sideways toward the door the second Deke jumped back.

“Not so rough,” Deke said, making it into a joke. “I’m new at this.”

“Yeah? Do you even know what you’re doing?” Quinlan snapped, scrubbing his lips with the back of his hand. “’Cause I sure don’t.”

“Come on, boss. You know what this is. You want me, I can tell. And why wouldn’t you? All those years with that cringing little nerd…” Quinlan bristled and he shrugged. “Murray’s a nice guy, I like him, in fact, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. I’ve seen how you look at me, Ted. We could have a real good time, and what Murray doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Quinlan hesitated, swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Deke closed the distance between them, again so quickly, so smoothly, there wasn’t really time to escape, and then his hands were on him again, one stroking Ted’s groin as the other reached for his neck. But Quinlan wasn’t shocked this time and he knew what to do. Sidestepping Deke’s embrace he grabbed the doorknob, pulled it swiftly open so Deke struck his forehead on the leading edge of the door, and shoved him so he stumble-staggered out of the storeroom.

Now Quinlan was in control. He grabbed Deke’s upper arm and propelled him rapidly through the store, unlocked the front door, and shoved him through.

“I’ll mail your last check,” he spat. “Don’t ever come back here again.” Then he slammed the door, locked it, and walked calmly to Murray’s small office where he sat down in the padded desk chair, laid his head on folded arms, and wept.

***

Nick and Cody, seeing the store was closed early, called Quinlan at home to ask if he was all right and invite him to join them for dinner. But Quinlan, lying in the bed he shared with Murray, still feeling dirty and treacherous after three showers, said he had a headache and needed to rest. After everything else, such a small lie couldn’t do any more harm.

He lay there in the silent dark, watching the bright red numbers change on the digital clock, until Murray called just before midnight. Happy, laughing, a little drunk, Murray told him all about his day and Quinlan listened, tears of grief and sorrow standing in his eyes.

“That’s good, baby. Sounds like it’s going great up there.”

“It is. I already have requests to write pieces for two articles, and Henry’s friend is making a tutorial film he thinks I should be in. Gosh, I really hate leaving you but I’m getting so much work from this, I almost feel bad that I’m getting paid to be here. Almost. But I miss you so much, Lieutenant. You have to come with me sometime. No one would care. There are other gay couples here, and all the straight guys are sharing rooms, too.”

“You know,” he said, laughing to hide the catch in his voice, “you’re right, I should have gone. And I will, next time. I miss you, baby.”

“Really? That’d be so boss,” Murray cried, and Quinlan winced, remembering the flirty way Deke used that word. “I hate being away from you so much. I feel terrible having a good time when I know you’re there watching TV all alone. Maybe you should have Deke over to keep you company. I bet he likes action movies and westerns.”

“I don’t care what Deke likes,” he said harshly and blushed, afraid he’d just given himself away. 

“What?” Murray asked, baffled.

“Nothing, it’s okay. He just—uh—he quit on me today. I don’t know what’s going on with him, he hasn’t been—himself—since you left. This morning he went kind of crazy on me,” that at least didn’t feel like a lie, “and stormed off. Tried to break some stuff on his way out,” he added, and that also felt true, “so I told him not to come back.”

“Oh no. That’s terrible, Lieutenant. Are you okay? Should I come home? Do you need help in the store?”

“Nah,” he said, as casually as he could. “Nick and Cody said they’d come by during the afternoon rush. We’ll be fine. I really can’t wait to see you, though.”

“Two more days. But I can’t wait, either. I love you, Lieutenant. So much.”

“I know, sweetheart. I love you, too.”


End file.
